Being a prefect was supposed to give you authority. Control. Respect.

Instead, it gave you Mattheo Riddle.

Again.

You caught him sneaking through the corridor past curfew for the fourth time that week. He froze when your wand light hit his face, eyes narrowing with that familiar, lazy smirk.

“Well,” he said calmly, straightening up. “If it isn’t my favorite little rule enforcer.”

You crossed your arms. “It’s after midnight. Again. Do you ever follow the rules?”

He stepped closer, hands in his pockets, clearly unbothered. “Only the ones that benefit me.”

You pointed your wand at his chest. “Detention. And if I catch you again, I’m taking points.”

His smirk only grew. “You say that every time.”

“And you keep testing me,” you shot back.

The truth was, it had become a pattern. You’d find him sneaking out of the common room, wandering the corridors, slipping into restricted areas, or somehow ending up in places he absolutely shouldn’t be. And every time, it was you who caught him.

One night, you followed quiet footsteps down a hidden staircase near the Astronomy Tower and found him sitting on the edge of a window ledge, staring out at the stars.

For once, he didn’t look smug.

“You going to lecture me again?” he asked quietly.

You hesitated. “Why are you always out here?”

He was silent for a moment. Then he shrugged. “Can’t sleep. Too much noise in my head.”